the power of the pager

beep beep beep.

Anyone married to a spouse with a pager just shuddered.

I remember when my husband first received his pager in Medical school. I thought it was kind of cool when it first went off. It made the idea that he was one day going to be a real doctor more of a reality. If he didn't feel important wearing it, at least I felt important for him.

The novelty has long since worn off.

And while hate is a very strong word, and my mom told me never to use it, I'm pretty sure I hate my husband's pager.

This obnoxious, electronic, little piece of plastic that has so much control over our lives.

What I dislike the most is the unpredictability. I don't want to not include my hubby in my plans for the day/evening. But at the same time, I don't want to make plans, only to be disappointed when the darn thing goes off and he has to head to the hospital.

Inevitably I end up planning nothing for the days he's on call, yet secretly hoping that maybe we could do such and such if he doesn't get paged. And then when he does get called in, I'm disappointed that my secret plans were ruined.

It's Murphy's law: If we do make tentative plans, he will get paged and have to head to the hospital. If we don't make any plans, or if I make plans to do something without him, chances are he'll have a quiet day at home.

And did I mention that the Doctor's pager seems to be about 5 decibels louder than any one else's pager? Seriously. As if it wasn't ornery enough in its simple existence, it feels the need to announce its importance to our entire neighborhood with every high pitched bleep.

I knew when my hubby started out in medicine that a pager would be a part of lives. I just think that I had glamourized it in my head. You know, getting paged and having to race off to the hospital to save someone's life. But the pager goes off for many many different reasons when you're on call for the entire province. And none of these reasons seem to phase my hubby. Like a lot of things in this adventure known as residency, I didn't really know what we were in for. And like always, the Doctor is amazingly more accepting and tolerant of the annoyances in our life.

I'm struggling to come to terms with the existence of the pager in our lives, knowing that this small square monstrosity is stuck with us for a while. But it's difficult. Perhaps as the Doctor's call load lightens a little bit, and the high pitched bleeping becomes less frequent, I'll be better able to cope.

Or maybe once these crazy pregnancy hormones disappear I'll just be better able to cope. period.

i want my mom

This week has been a bit of a tough one.

I'm just about 34 weeks pregnant and have started nesting like a madwoman. My house never seems to be clean enough or organized enough. We are in the middle of getting a 'big girl' room ready for the Bean, and nothing seems to be happening quickly enough for me.

The Doctor just had 5 days off over Easter and so we got the Bean's new room painted (twice, since we didn't like the first colour). Her 'big girl' bed and dresser arrived and the hubby put those together. the mattress is on the bed, sheets are washed and ready to go.

And still I panic.

I want everything done now. I want the shelves to be hung, the toy box to be built, the little details finished. I want the Bean to be transitioned into her new room, well before her sibling arrives to take over her current space.

Oh I realize that none of this matters. Really. The baby could arrive tomorrow (please don't) and we'd be "fine".

But I am still freaking out.

The Doctor is working on a big presentation that he has to give at grand rounds next week, and so I am trying to get as much (okay, everything) done without him. The Bean is of course trying to be "helpful" and so every task seems to take nine times as long as it should.

And all this unnecessary stressing makes me want my mom.

I lay in bed last night after an exhausting day of getting lots done, yet feeling as though nothing got done (my to-do list obviously over-ambitious) and I cried. Hubby asked me what was wrong and like a 5-year old, I blurted "I miss my mom".

I'll blame it on my hormones. Because I can.

You see, my mom is amazing. She is like a cross between Mike Holmes and Debbie Travis. If she were here, the Bean's room would be done. The shelves that I don't know how to hang would be up on the wall. The toy box that I will not attempt to put together on my own would now be built. My floors would be washed. She would confirm my wall decor choices.

And I would be calm.

Because my mom is a get-er-done kind of woman. I on the other hand, am a terrible self-motivator and tend to get overwhelmed when looking at my long list of things to accomplish. But I know if my mom was here she'd say "let's get this done" and we would.

It is (hormonal) times like these that I am reminded yet again that living so far away from your family sucks. In all honesty, it is not only my mom that I miss. Not only her that I want near me. I have a whole slew of talented and hard working family members that would be here in an instant if we lived close and I were to call them up and ask.

So for now, I'm trying to be patient. I'm waiting until after next Wednesday, when the Doctor will be finished his presentation. And then I have a rather large honey-do list for him.

And I'm going to visit my family. This weekend the Bean and I will take what is probably the last flight just the two of us, and spend four days with my mom and dad and sister. While nothing will be accomplished to help prepare for this baby, I know that just being with my mom and talking things through will help.

And hopefully, when I return home I'll be calmer and less stressed about what needs to get done.

But I'll still miss my mom.

me and my momma
february 2012

when did you get so big?

My baby girl is growing up.

I don't know if it's because she is learning so many new things so quickly, or if it's because I'm preparing for the arrival of a brand new baby, but my Bean seems so big these days.

In the span of a week she started talking in 2 and 3 word sentences.

Last week we walked to the park. No stroller. Just my big girl holding my hand and chattering all the way.

She is almost fully potty-trained and almost always tells me when she has to go.

Last week we said good-bye to her bottle.

And on the weekend she reached for me, said "Mama". And then, of her own accord: "Wuv woo".

I can't even tell you what those two little words did to my heart. She's been saying "love you" back to us for a little while now, when prompted, but this was the first time my daughter told me she loved me because she wanted to.

It is an indescribable feeling to have love returned to you by your child. This little bean, who I have loved and cared for whole-heartedly since before she was born is starting to recognize love and affection, and is beginning to demonstrate it on her own.

To me, this is a huge milestone. A big development for the Bean. While the physical milestones (like sitting, crawling, walking) have been so fun to watch, these new emotional and mental growth spurts are even more exciting to me.

We have inside jokes, my daughter and I. Things we do to make the other laugh. I am loving watching her sense of humour develop. She is, without a doubt, a little person with her own personality.

It makes me excited to see who this next baby will be and how different or similar he/she will be to the Bean. Isn't parenthood the greatest adventure?

how did we get from this...

... to this??

Bean,   19 months old

when to draw the line

We were talking not that long ago with friends of ours about our "portfolios". The things in our households that he always takes care of or she always does. It was a light hearted conversation that had us laughing. But it led to a more serious discussion between my hubby and I later as the Doctor and I came to realize that a vast majority of the items in my husband's portfolio had somehow made their way into mine.

How this happened, neither of us are quite sure. I certainly didn't sneak into his folder and steal his jobs to bolster my own portfolio. Trust me, it's full enough. Perhaps some of them I took willingly from him, and filed them neatly (and alphabetically) into my own. But others are shoved in there, crumpled and out of order.

Can I take care of things on my own? Heck, yes I'm capable.

But do I want to? Or should I have to? This is the more difficult question to answer.

I don't resent my husband for studying hard or working long hours. But there are times that I definitely do hold some resentment. To be quite honest, there are times that I wish our family ranked higher on his list of priorities. There are times that I wish I ranked higher on that list.

I get it. He's a resident. A student-doctor. He is learning a highly skilled profession that deals with people's health and lives. It's serious. No duh he has to study. I wouldn't want someone operating on me without reading a thing or two about the procedure, right?

So the hard part is knowing where to draw the line between needing him here with me and wanting him here.

The tricky thing is helping him to find balance when all he can focus on is that next exam or that new surgical skill he has to master.

I know it's going to get better. As the Doctor repeats procedures and becomes more comfortable with his skills and knowledge, he won't have to study as much. His call load will eventually lighten and someday, one day, he'll be able to have more control over his hours. From what I hear, second year residency is one of the busiest years of training.

But right now I feel as if it's going to be a never-ending cycle. And if we don't find a balance now, maybe we never will. There will always be something to study for, a paper to read, a surgical procedure to learn or improve.

I love the handsome, intelligent, fun-loving man I married so much. I feel like I can never spend enough time with him.

So for me, I'm trying to determine how much I can share. How understanding and flexible can I be before enough is enough? Before our marriage suffers for it?

I am so thankful that my hubby and I can be open and honest with each other. I really make an effort not to whine and complain to him about the long hours he spends away from us. Especially the ones he can't help. But I do let him know how I'm feeling. When it is getting to be too much. When he needs to take a break. If not for his sake, then for mine.

We're getting there. We're learning how to make it work. And once our new baby arrives, we'll have to figure it out again.

But that's what marriage is.

That's what being a family is all about.

This past week I drew the line.

We took a much needed break from our everyday lives. We went to Cuba for a week's vacation. We went to an all-inclusive resort. All our meals were prepared for us. Our room was cleaned every day for us. The beach was beautiful. And our time was our own. Time together. Time as a family. Does it get any better than that?

We also made a decision to invite my parents to join us. They helped to take care of the Bean and she even had 4 sleep-overs in their room! The Doctor and I got some much needed time alone. I even got to sleep in (kinda'). And we took long walks by ourselves on the beach.

the Bean and her Oma and Opa

I really can't express how refreshing this holiday was. Did my hubby study on the beach almost every day? Well, yes. But he was beside me. I was reading a novel and usually the Bean was napping in her shade tent. I didn't care. And did I mention it was on a beach with the sun shining down on us?

I feel now that I can make it through this next month while the Doctor prepares for his huge exam at the beginning of April. It was a break we both needed. It was the uninterrupted time together that I so desperately craved.

perspective

When my hubby gets home from work, it's customary for us to ask about each other's days. You know, "how was it?", "what did you do?", "did you eat?" (okay, that last one is me making sure my hubby is taking care of himself, since it's often difficult for him to grab 10min to eat something).

I love hearing about the Doctor's day. Probably because I think his days are infinitely more interesting than mine. And luckily I am not squeamish, and also think the surgeries he's performing are "cool". He, in turn, is always eager to hear about what I've been up to, especially if I've spent the day with the Bean. I know the little things she does bring a huge smile to his face, so I try to remember as many of them as I can.

Talking about our days helps us feel connected. To know what our partner has been up to and to know what their state of mind is at the end of a day.

Occasionally one of us will have a "bad" day. My husband is a great listener and a wise man. I know that for me, talking through that bad day with him can help me vent frustrations, it can help me sort out exactly what made it bad and why I'm feeling the way I am.

And occasionally, something like this happens:

hubby: "how was your day?"

me: "ugh. it was terrible. i wore the wrong underwear and they drove me crazy all day; i got stuck on the highway because of an accident and was late for work; then i spent all morning working on a spreadsheet for my boss, who looked at it and then decided he wanted something completely different and i had to re-do the entire thing. it was a frustrating day."

hubby: "that does sound frustrating."

me: "it was. how was your day?"

hubby: "well, we had to meet with a patient's family to tell them their loved one was going to die. it was tough, i almost cried. then we got the test results back on another patient and it looks like she isn't going to make it either. my pager went off all night and i only slept for an hour in the call-room."

me: "oh."

So you see, sometimes talking about our days can make my "bad" day seem not very terrible at all.

Sometimes God grants me a little perspective.

Sometimes I am a little more conscious of what really matters in this life. And sometimes I am reminded to count my blessings and grumble less.